


Small Mercies

by Cloudbat



Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudbat/pseuds/Cloudbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic involving my fan character Palepelt and a soldier in the wake of the war in Code of Claw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Mercies

It wasn’t the smell of the battlefield that bothered Palepelt. No, the rotting corpses were as familiar of a stench to her as the ever-present darkness of the Underland. 

What bothered her was the reason they had all died. 

She wandered among them, lost, barely paying attention to the blood and remains her feet occasionally squelched through. She didn’t know any of them, or at least, it was unlikely she had. Yet she felt an emptiness at witnessing their loss. A strange lurking sense of guilt that she too, had not been among them.

“You…”

The small light gray rat froze. 

“You’re not dead…”

“No.” She answered softly, having pinpointed the voice of the speaker nearby. The squeaks of her echolocation, too high pitched for any human ear, gave her a rough idea of what he looked like - a large rat, probably quite strong when he had still possessed all his limbs.

She moved slightly closer to him, wary of disease but also filled with morbid curiosity.

“What became of…the Bane?”

“He is no more.”

“What..?” The rat coughed. Blood was mixed in with the hacks, from the sound of it.

“We lost the war, soldier. The news was just sent out.”

“No…” The huge rodent gasped, his claws weakly scrabbling on the rock in disbelief.

Palepelt wondered how he was still alive, despite missing an arm and part of a back leg. Then she realized: he had plenty of food, all around him.

The thought made her feel sick, but then, why should she revile him? Because he had chosen to extend his life just a little longer? She never fought. She had barely ever even seen a killer. She had never gotten involved.

The rat coughed more. He sounded a mere few steps from losing his light.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“I…I was called Siltfur…”

“Siltfur, you won’t live long. I think you know this. It’s a miracle infection or thirst hasn’t killed you yet. Would you like me to help you?”

She could feel his gaze on her, despite the blackness. Then she heard, or rather felt, him nod. 

“Tell them…tell them…not again. Glory is something we can only have when we are alive…”

“I will.”

Siltfur closed his eyes, and Palepelt bit cleanly through his neck, his soul extinguished in a dark land where the remains of war slowly faded into dust.


End file.
